


Night After Night

by Nightwing_Hunter



Category: Supernatural
Genre: DeanCas - Freeform, Destiel - Freeform, Destielfluff, Fear, Fluff, FluffAtEnd, Hell, HellDreams, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, Torture, bye
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-28
Updated: 2018-04-28
Packaged: 2019-04-29 03:53:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14464422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nightwing_Hunter/pseuds/Nightwing_Hunter
Summary: Dean doesn’t scream anymore, but that doesn’t mean that he doesn’t still dream of Hell.





	Night After Night

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you guys enjoy this. It’s my first fanfiction, so sorry if it’s really bad. Please give feedback! Thanks for reading!

Dean didn’t scream anymore. There was a time, right after Hell, that he did. But he knew how his screams made Sam want to focus on him, on healing the wounds Hell had left on his mind. But to him, they had more important things to worry about now. Keeping the angels, Lucifer, demons, and demon worshippers off their backs, the Apocalypse, the other creatures acting up from said Apocalypse, and finding some way to kill Lucifer. The list went on and on. No, Dean did not think that his nightmares where important.  
And yet. Yet he still had them. Nightmares where he tortured and broke souls. Ones where he was tortured and broken himself. So he pushed them aside, drank, lost himself while hunting, and learned to keep the screams to himself.   
Still they came, night after night.   
***  
It was a night like any other. A night after a successful hunt—just some demon grunts that were easily taken out. Sam was asleep, and Dean had done what he usually did—stayed awake until he passed out, only to wake four hours later from a nightmare.   
Dean was sitting in the armchair in the motel, drinking a bottle of beer, watching the moonlight filter through the closed curtains, when he heard a voice.   
“You should be asleep.”  
“Cas,” he said, not even turning around, “what did I tell you about sneaking up on me?”  
“That’s not the point.”  
Dean’s lips twitched. “Then what is?”  
“The point is that you should be asleep.”  
“Why? Is there something important going on tomorrow?”  
“No-”  
“Then I can sleep whenever the hell I want to, Cas,” Dean interrupted.  
“But,” the angel continued, “anything can come up. These days, you need to stay at your full energy, Dean.”  
“I’ll have enough.”  
“How do you know?”  
“Cas, if there’s something wrong or important, tell me. But if there’s nothing wrong, go away and do the angel crap you need to.”  
“Why are you so against sleeping? It’s an action all humans need to do.”  
Dean glared at the angel. “You know why.”  
“What I also know,” Castiel said, “is that the only way to beat your fears is to face them.”  
Dean shook his head, the memories flashing through his head: a knife weaving through his ribs, tearing tendons, a whip flying through the air, acid being poured on him. He must have been more drunk than he thought, because the words had already left his lips. “I can’t, Cas.”  
The angel just told him, “Sleep,” and Dean fell fast asleep in the armchair.  
***  
 **Dreams are strange. With some of them, you know that they are dreams, and that you are dreaming. With others, they feel as real as life. It was the latter rather than the former that Dean was dreaming.**  
 **It felt real when Dean felt knife slipping through bones. It felt real when the razor sliced up his arm, slipping along his forearm, scraping the flesh off his bone. It definitely felt real when he began screaming, and even more so when he began pleading Alastair to stop.**  
 **And when Alastair wrenched the bone from his forearm, another scream. Bones got wrenched out part by part, drawing screams, and when Dean’s screams died out, guttural sounds of pain, animal sounds, emanated instead.**  
 **“Let me hear your voice, Dean,” the demon whispered, his voice cruel, almost seductive,“All you have to do is spill a little blood. I will heal you. All you have to do is torture one soul. One.”**  
 ** _Then another, and another after that_ , were the unspoken words in his voice. **  
**His pain-addled brain was at war. One side, the logical side, told him that _No no he couldn’t not this time._ But the other side said _Yes. Don’t you want the pain to stop? Don’t you want to get revenge?_ He wanted it to stop. He wanted to do something—anything—to stop it. The words came out too fast to take them back. **  
**“Yes. Yes, I will, if you just—” Dean’s rasping voice broke.**  
 **“Heal you.” The demon was smiling.**  
 **And as he stood up from the rack and faced the first soul, as he angled the knife at the poor soul’s abdomen and brought it down, Dean wished that he were not so weak. That he did not break so easily.**  
 **The dream continued.**  
***  
Castiel heard Dean’s screams. No, not his real ones, but the ones he was screaming within the dream. The ones within his head. Some of the other angels had advised him to leave the man alone when dreaming, that it did not matter, so he tried to ignore them. Eventually Cas could not take it anymore.  
He did not know the first thing about calming humans, and stood in front of Dean for a second, wondering what to do. When the man moaned in pain from the nightmare, Cas stood in front of Dean’s chair, and wrapped his wings around the both of them. He held the man, and was surprised when Dean did not wake or struggle. Cas began to sing a song in Enochian, one that he had been taught as a young angel. It had helped him sleep when wars broke out then, so the angel assumed that it would help the man now, in the middle of one of the biggest wars in anyone’s life.  
The song roughly translated to:

“ _Within the garden_  
 _Beyond the grey land_  
 _Past the stars that have fallen_  
 _After the lost souls_

_Carry on to see_   
_What you came to find_   
_If you do not flee_   
_You will perceive_

_An angel of light_   
_Defeating a dark god_   
_A dark god of fright_   
_So do not fear._

_Because the angel will protect_   
_the ones who wish forevermore_   
_And the light will vanquish_   
_The dark at heart.”_

_***_  
As the angel sang the last verse, the man if front of him calmed, his heart beat steadied, his breath evened, and his muscles relaxed.  
If an outsider were to stare into the motel room, they would see a man being held by an angel and holding the angel back as if he were the man’s lifeline. They would see the angel’s wings wrapped around the both of them. And perhaps, if they could hear inside, they would hear the angel singing in a foreign language, and the man breathing in time. It would look tranquil, with no mention of a nightmare. It would look far calmer that what was to come. Because here, in this life, there was no light that would vanquish the dark. There were only two brothers and a rebel angel against the world. It was a choice between dark and darker.


End file.
